


Last Call

by RedDeadDoofus



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur drives a truck because of course he does, Brawl - Freeform, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fighting, Grinding, John chain smokes cheap cigarettes and drives a Trans Am in primer paint, Modern AU, Money laundering, Nathalie - Freeform, Oral Sex, Possessive Arthur, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Workplace Sexual Harassment, change my mind, pot, tattoo artist - Freeform, wyoming - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21623368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedDeadDoofus/pseuds/RedDeadDoofus
Summary: The year is 2019 in Wyoming. The gang runs a bar, Dutch’s Place, and uses it to launder money. Arthur has strayed from the gang and works as a tattoo artist. It hasn’t been easy, but the transition has been made smoother with the constant steadying presence of Arthur’s partner in romance and crime, Nathalie. Tensions run high one night at Dutch’s Place and things come to a climax.Warning: explicit sex and moderate angst
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Original Character(s), Arthur Morgan & Original Female Character(s), Arthur Morgan & Reader, Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Arthur Morgan/Reader, Arthur Morgan/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’d like to give an honorable mention to the character I really wanted in this story but couldn’t find a way to insert; Sean the avid marijuana enthusiast. Also, shoutout to Charles as being a quiet pot connoisseur, because he absolutely would be.

It was almost dark by the time Arthur had managed to leave the shop. Wyoming autumn was no joke. Arthur grumbled and bounced his hand off the dash, fruitlessly attempting to jog the heater into compliance. The old truck groaned in response, and Arthur decided to leave it be. Instead he wrapped himself tighter in his wool coat, set his mouth into a dour frown, and hunched closer to the wheel. The rain sluiced down tumultuously, bouncing off the windshield. He strained his gaze through it in an effort to better see the road. Neon lights glimmered through the torrent, and Arthur huffed a sigh of relief. 

When he drove towards the bar, her car was still there. Arthur grinned and swung into the parking lot. His shocks groaned against the potholes as he maneuvered the old blue Dodge into place. The truck splashed watery mud onto the battered Trans Am in the spot next to him, making Arthur smile just a little bigger. John’s Trans Am could handle it. He hummed as he cut the engine and tried to eye the bar’s windows through the rain. Blurred neon lights dripped down his windshield. The man threw on a coat, grabbed his battered hat, and hit the rain as quickly as he could. He didn’t bother to lock the truck - this was Dutch’s Place, after all.

A cacophony of noise hit Arthur’s ears as soon as he ducked inside. He stood in the doorway and coughed into the heavy cloud of warmth, music, and cigarette smoke. Folks weren’t supposed to smoke here of course, but you’d be hard pressed to tell them that. The tell tale whiff of cigar told Arthur that Dutch was the leading offender here tonight. The smell was followed by a someone hooting and the clack of pool balls colliding. It took another few seconds to adjust to the dim light, and then Arthur was shrugging out of his coat. He kept the hat. 

Someone shouted his name from a far corner of the room and Arthur ignored it. He made a beeline for the bar. He registered faces as he moved, but kept his head down and his hat low. That worked until a hand from a passing waitress deftly flicked it off his head. He caught it in time to see one of Tilly’s no-nonsense arched eyebrows pass him by.

“No hats inside, Arthur!” she called. She was gone with her tray before Arthur could retort. 

He wrinkled his nose and smashed it lower onto his head and kept going. 

Through the throng of denim and boozy smiles, Arthur thought he saw the flash of a jukebox’s lights glint off a familiar set of tawny curls. He was starting to barrel his way through a cluster of buzzed patrons when a heavy hand caught his shoulder.

“Arthur! Long time no see, son!”

Arthur winced internally and slowly turned. When his irritation was masked he met Dutch Van der Linde with a shoulder clap. 

“Dutch,” he responded. He hoped it didn’t come off as terse as he felt. He adored the man, hell, had been practically raised by him, but today was not the day. Arthur was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to find his girl, sink into a quiet tumbler of whiskey, and then drag his partner into the soft warmth of their bed. He did not want to be here, talking to Dutch and inwardly praying not to get roped into a new dirty scheme. He held his breath as the older man leaned closer. The rings on his fingers glinted in the low light.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Dutch began conspiratorially. 

Arthur exhaled. 

“I know you’ve got this tattoo gig going, but you should see what we’re up to. What we’re planning,” the older man grinned. A chunk of tobacco dripped onto Arthur’s boot and he did his best not to react. 

“We’ve got this new strain in. You should see it. Hell, you should try it,” Dutch chuckled. He patted Arthur’s chest and Arthur felt a weight slip into his breast pocket.

“She’s strong, so don’t try it at work, huh?” Dutch’s eyes twinkled. Arthur nodded wearily. 

“Sure thin’, boss,” he croaked. He was so sick of this. 

“Just let me know when you’re bored of that art shit and want to make real money again. This is the big one, I swear!” 

Arthur nodded again, but he wasn’t looking at Dutch anymore. His gaze scanned the bar behind the older man, and Dutch noted his inattention casually. Something tightened in the dark of Dutch’s eyes, and he clapped his hand down on Arthur’s shoulder again. 

Arthur started and looked back to Dutch somewhat sheepishly. Dutch smiled and shook his head. 

“Arthur, son. Just don’t you forget about us. You’re the best of ‘em, and we need you back. Won’t be long now ‘fore you’ve got to pay your dues - get your knuckles dirty with more than ink, you know. Besides, Hosea’s been missin’ you.”

Arthur scratched the back of his neck and cracked one of his shoulders absently. He missed the ranch, and he missed Hosea. He hadn’t seen the old man in some time, and he was definitely due for another visit. But today was not that day.

“I’ll make it out there soon, Dutch,” Arthur grunted. “I’ll let you know when.” 

The black haired man didn’t respond. He blew a long stream of smoke into the air and flicked his hand towards the far end of the bar. 

“Nathalie’s down there.”

Arthur heard the dismissal and he took it without hesitation. 

He found her attending a table of bikers. Her back was to him and she was writing something, so he let her be for a moment. He took a stool at the bar and smiled at Charles, the bartender on shift. Charles slid him his usual drink without asking. Arthur swirled the glass and leaned back to watch Nathalie work and to admire the fit of her jeans. 

It was his favorite pair. Arthur couldn’t hold her the way he wanted with her working right now, so he let the jeans do it for him. A simple black barkeep apron was tied snuggly above her hips over a fitted white t-shirt. It shouldn’t have been a particularly sexy outfit, but she wore it deliciously well. A darker spot through her shirt revealed the presence of a tattoo over the waistband of her jeans. He’d put it there, so he knew it well; a red tailed hawk, soaring between the dimples of her lower back.

A little loop of ribbon contained half of her curls into a messy half-updo, but left the other half free to drip down between her shoulders. Her bangs curled a little, loosened from their straightened state likely by the sweat and strain of the workday. The summer had yet to leave her complexion, and she was freckled and tanned with it. 

Her table had yet to finish ordering. The little strain on her smile told Arthur she was irritated at their glacial pace, but the leather clad men she was serving didn’t notice. They didn’t notice much of anything, really. One green bandana-wearing man eyed her ass while the others leered at her chest. Their words were indiscernible, but one leaned into his friend and mimed cupping something. The two laughed. Arthur growled into his drink. 

“I don’t know why you don’t just come back to the gang. You look like you’re ready to fight right now anyway.”

A match flared somewhere to Arthur’s left. The sound was followed by the smell of a flaring menthol cigarette and a pleased sigh. When Arthur barked a short laugh, John lowered himself into the stool beside him and offered the cigarette. Arthur accepted it and took a long pull. He choked on the taste and coughed once. John idly watched him. 

“I thought you quit smoking?” he asked benignly. 

“I did,” Arthur grumbled. “Long day.”

“Didn’t realize drawin’ was that hard,” John retorted, lips curled into a small smile. Arthur smiled dryly in response. 

“Weren’t you thinkin’ about quittin’ smokes too?” Arthur responded, ignoring John’s jab. 

“Hmm. I’ll quit when Abigail quits,” John retorted, drawing in a long pull. 

Arthur snorted and shook his head. The two men were quiet for a moment. John just watched Arthur watching Nathalie.

“I’m glad you got out, you know,” John stated unexpectedly. Arthur raised his eyebrows at that and met the other man’s serious gaze.

The deep scars on his face looked fake and flat in the dim light, but Arthur had been there when John had received them. They’d all been armed and they were well versed in survival. But sometimes, on nights like the night they had gone out on, things just happened. Knives gouged faces and left scars. Arthur had been lucky in that the scars he’d collected over the years were easily hidden beneath his clothes. John hadn’t been so fortunate. Arthur palmed John’s cigarette and took another pull. He held it the smoke in his mouth, savoring the flavor. He hated menthol, but the nicotine felt good. 

“Hm. Think I should come back then, huh?” 

“Fuck no. Not with your gift,” John replied. That surprised a little Arthur, but he appreciated it. That he thought of Arthur’s skill with design as a gift was not new information. John had been the first to go under Arthur’s needle, and he had received a free full shoulder piece as a result. Arthur was more startled to hear that John thought he had made the right choice by leaving the gang. They’d gone through a lot together and, despite Arthur’s vocal protests, John’s opinion mattered to him.

“Gift,” Arthur repeatedly absently. He was watching Nathalie again, watching the tired set of her shoulders. A similarly tired ache sat in Arthur’s gut. He wanted the best for her, for them and for John and John’s little family too. He just didn’t see how it was possible. He’d been saving of course. Arthur worked hard, and he made good money. It was rare that he was off early enough to visit Nathalie at Dutch’s Place like today. Nathalie thought he worked too hard, but they both wore themselves down to the bone saving to move away and to pay for Nathalie’s college. 

Arthur regularly marvelled at Nathalie’s course load and her ability to complete it all. Arthur enjoyed an occasional read, but he wasn’t much for book learning. Nathalie was just two terms away from her forensic chemistry degree. She took classes online and often studied and completed assignments even while at work. He was achingly proud of her. 

They’d met six years past. Back then Arthur had been fully in the thick of things with Dutch and the crop and dissuading rival competition. John had broken things off with Abigail and had been flying through one night stands. When Nathalie had dropped off her resume and mentioned a passion for chemistry Dutch had hired her on the spot. She’d waited tables and barkept for two nights before John had lured her into his bed. The fling ended quickly after that but the two remained close friends. Nathalie had harbored a small infatuation since the moment John had introduced her to Arthur. It had only snowballed as the two became friends. Arthur had been charmed with her despite himself and had done his best to squash the crush he kept deep in his chest. John had read him like a book and set them up. Since then, they’d been inseparable. 

Dutch had been initially elated to have a budding chemist engrained so deeply in his staff, but had lost interest when he realized she wanted nothing to do with the gang’s side crop gig. When she began expressing interest in criminal justice work Dutch was eager to offer to pay college tuition. Arthur and Nathalie had been careful to reject his offer, rightfully fearing Dutch’s gift to come with strings attached. Nathalie had been well aware she was walking a thin line since then, and the couple did everything they could to make sure Nathalie stayed on Dutch’s good side.

“You want to do anything this weekend?” John asked, pulling Arthur from his thoughts. “Old Boy could use another coat of paint.”

“Maybe,” Arthur responded, smiling slightly. It had been a while since they’d had their Saturday routine. “I’ll let you know. Maybe Sunday.”

John nodded once and shifted his attention to the oncoming figure. 

“Nathalie! This weekend?” he called. 

Nathalie smiled in response. Arthur felt the heat of her presence dip close and then the brush of her lips at the corner of his forehead. He relaxed into it and hummed something wordless and happy. She responded with another brief peck, and then she was behind the bar and mixing a tumbler of something. 

“Maybe Sunday!” she called to John. Her hands were a blur as she assembled a selection of drinks. Arthur shot John a smug smile. John just scoffed and took another drag. Nathalie fumbled with the drinks before sliding them onto a tray. She was starting back to the table before the liquor had stopped sloshing in the glasses.

Arthur raised his glass to Charles pleadingly. When the bartender filled it, Arthur toasted him before nearly draining it. 

“‘Gonna be another one of those nights, huh?” John asked wryly.

“Yup,” Arthur responded, scowling at the table’s loud jeers and catcalls as Nathalie approached. 

One of the men immediately berated her for taking too long. Nathalie responded with something polite, and one of the bikers laughed and grabbed his glass from the tray in Nathalie’s hands. The action slid his hand against her chest. Nathalie’s back immediately tensed and the energy at the table heightened. The tension felt thick and predatory even from the bar. Arthur shifted in his seat, his knuckles white around his nearly empty glass. One of the men chuckled and leaned in, crowding her. Another slipped from his chair to stand behind her and caught her elbow, murmuring something. The situation was quickly escalating. 

John watched hollowly. He snuffed his cigarette on the bar when he noticed Charles approaching them. When Charles stopped he leaned over the counter John leaned closer and Charles gestured towards Nathalie and said something too quietly for Arthur to hear. John shook his head and turned to Arthur.

“You want to get this one, or should I?” John asked, eyeing the rising tension in Arthur’s bunched shoulders. 

“All mine,” Arthur growled. The man rose fluidly from his seat, quickly blooming to his full height. Anger rolled off of him like smoke. Charles and John watched from the bar, both men radiating restrained hostility. Arthur stalked forward like an avalanche, gathering possessive rage and assuredness with each step. Just yards away he watched as the man behind Nathalie pushed her forward and, in one quick motion, bent her at the waist. The man’s pelvis hit hers and his hand found her chest. The drinks hit the table. 

Her yelp and curse was lost in the crash of rushing liquid and broken glass. Arthur snarled something unintelligible and lunged forward, his fist a blur. 

Nathalie immediately pushed herself up and away from the table, slamming her back against the man behind her. The force knocked him off-balance and tripped him into an unsteady, backwards step. The space was all Nathalie needed to spin and slam her knee up and into the man’s groin. 

She ducked just as Arthur’s fist slammed into the man’s face. Blood arched as the blow devastated the pulp of his nose. 

In the span of the second in which the fight began, the rest of the table hovered in suspended confusion. Their inactivity quickly evaporated into frenzied activity. Chairs clattered to the ground as the men jumped forward. Someone swung for Arthur’s face and barely missed as he ducked. He took another wild, uncoordinated swing and caught a glancing blow on Arthur’s cheekbone. Another man grabbed the big man from behind. 

Nathalie yelled and skidded into the man swinging at Arthur. She swung the flat of her tray onto his face with a resounding clap and kicked her disoriented target backward, where he stumbled and crashed into another patron. She deflected the glass someone threw at her with the tray and was rewarded with a shower of broken glass. 

Arthur swore and slammed his elbows back into the man behind him. The biker wheezed but didn’t let go, so Arthur slammed the back of his head into the man’s face. 

“John!” Arthur bellowed. When his arms loosened Arthur shrugged his shoulders up and ducked, pulling easily free. He pivoted and lunged, grappling with the collar of the man’s vest. Once he had a good grip he crossed his arms and yanked hard. Arthur was rewarded with a gasp for air. He took the moment to slam his clenched hand into the man’s windpipe. 

“Get her the fuck outta’ here!” he shouted. He heard only the rushing of his own blood in his ears and the dull roar of the disrupted bar. The fourth man grabbed Arthur’s shoulder from behind and swung him off balance. When he turned he was met with a knee to his ribs. With a choked snarl Arthur barreled forward and crashed into him shoulder first, knocking both men back against the table with the impact. He used the momentum to begin pummeling the man below him. He dodged most of the returning blows, but found his head spinning as a particularly solid punch connected with his brow. Arthur cussed and responded by driving his knuckles into his foe’s teeth. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur was aware of someone pulling Nathalie away from behind. She shouted and was dropping to twist from the grip when the firm hands of Charles joined John in tugging her away from the fray. A fresh cut gleamed crimson on her cheek. She stilled somewhat as recognition of her two friends’ voices registered through the uproar of her adrenaline. 

“Settle the fuck down!” someone shouted distantly.

A flash of green streaked between them, and Arthur lost track of Nathalie as a new man crashed into him. He heard Bill’s curse through the din and was joined by the bigger man through the haze of blood, glass, and smoke. Someone else joined the fray, and then, over the crack of fists and the uproar of the crowd, he heard one angry, ear-splittingly loud voice. 

“I  _ said _ , fucking cool it, boys!” Dutch roared. 

The sudden piercing outburst stilled the brawlers temporarily. Arthur swayed on his feet and rounded his shoulders, prepared for the fight to resume again. Dutch didn’t give it a chance to. With an easy, graceful motion the older man swung a chair high overhead and slammed it over the form of a green-clothed man who was still stirring on the floor. The chair cracked on impact with his victim’s jaw, and the man’s head immediately lolled into unconsciousness. 

The remaining brawlers slumped into exhausted acquiescence. The bikers still standing worked to gather their comatose partners and began to shift back through the bar and towards the exits. Arthur wheezed and dropped his hands to his knees as his senses rushed back to him. A dull pounding echoed in his temple. 

“And  _ you _ ,” Dutch spat, motioning to Arthur. Nathalie tensed from her place against John. She strained forward and wiggled loose of his grip to rush to Arthur’s side. She placed a gentle hand against Arthur’s cheek and guided him back to his full height. He winced as he allowed her to move him closer. 

“Both of you, go get cleaned up,” Dutch continued. His eyes flashed with anger, but his face dropped some of the tightness it had held a moment ago. He pushed a hand against the slick of his hair with a heavy sigh. “Just go home for tonight.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think Nathalie and Arthur own a really fat geriatric tabby cat together, then you're goddamn right.

_ “Both of you, go get cleaned up,” Dutch continued. His eyes flashed with anger, but his face dropped some of the tightness it had held a moment ago. He pushed a hand against the slick of his hair with a heavy sigh. “Just go home for tonight.” _

Neither Nathalie nor Arthur needed to be told twice. Arthur’s blood still sang with the energy of the fight, and he knew it would be a while before that buzz faded. Nathalie walked behind him, nervously scanning her partner with furrowed eyes. Arthur sighed as his back hit the door of the employee’s den, and he pulled Nathalie inside with him. As soon as the door slid shut Nathalie sprung into activity, her hands checking lightly over Arthur’s face and body. 

The dim room was dingy, but clean enough. Dutch’s ever-constant classical music played from an ancient CD player on his desk. It was a strange contrast to the pulsing in Arthur’s blood and the din of the bar room they had just left. The mirror by the door contained a first aid kit with compresses and bandages, but Arthur pulled Nathalie closer against him before she could pursue it. 

“Arthur, you didn’t have to do that,” Nathalie scolded gently. She worried her bottom lip once with her teeth as she eyed the blooming bruise on his temple. 

Arthur groaned slightly in response.

“Course I did. You think I was goin’ to sit back and let Charles handle it after  _ that _ ?” he growled.

Nathalie tutted, still feeling him over for any major injury. He caught her hand as she reached for the swelling on his brow. She was looking everywhere but where he could catch her worried gaze.

“I could have handled it. I’d be fine and they’d have gone on their way and -” she babbled.

“Nathalie. Nathalie. Look at me,” Arthur stated, staring at her. 

She didn’t respond. 

Arthur caught her chin with his free hand and gently raised her face to meet his. Her grey eyes were frantic and bright with adrenaline. 

He captured the tight set of her mouth with his lips. The kiss was gentle at first. Arthur kissed her delicately but insistently until she relaxed against him and kissed back. He drank in the taste of her and pulled her tight. When her tongue flicked against his lip he growled and met her with force. The adrenaline burning in his pulse ignited the need to feel her, to claim and to possess her. 

When Nathalie whimpered into his mouth he gave in to the urge. His hands swept long, strong loops over her back, down across the swell of her ass, and up to cup against the back of her shoulder blades and neck. Nathalie shivered into the feeling of his calloused hands against her and the hot, whiskey-scented heat of his mouth. She met him with with equal fervor, folding into his arms and secured herself there. Her hands gripped at his collar fervently as they breathed into the taste of one another. When he pulled away with a low gasp to breath she slipped a hand onto his waistline and tugged him back. 

A humoured rumble vibrated through his chest and Nathalie smiled against his lips. He nipped at her bottom lip. When she tried to copy the movement he pushed her back and bit her again, a little harder. Her butt hit the hard wooden edge of Dutch’s desk, but she barely noticed. She relinquished to the heady ferocity of his lips and tongue and let him lead. The intensity in his eyes told her he needed it, and the flare and heat of her arousal burning low in her core was more than ready to acquiesce. 

Arthur slammed a hand over the CD player, causing the classical music to skip to a stop. The CD ejected with a low, mechanical groan. An echoing low moan slid from Arthur’s mouth as Nathalie’s hands scrambled and tugged the collar of his button down shirt open and over his shoulders. His hands slid lower over her lower back and, with startling speed, looped lower over her ass and lifted. Nathalie squeaked but opened her legs. She relaxed when she felt the solidness of the desk beneath her. Arthur wasted no time and pushed himself between her legs. His hands arched her back lower and held her there as he devoured her mouth. She felt weightless in the power of his scarred, scuffed hands on her body and she loved it. 

Papers behind her scattered with a sweep of Arthur’s arm, and then there was nothing to stop the crush of their bodies grinding and arching against the old desk. The bulge in Arthur’s pants ground against Nathalie’s thigh and she rolled her hips against it. She slid a hand to his erection and pulsed her hand against the denim. Arthur’s hands tussled with the knot of her apron. With a muffled curse he unfastened it and threw it on the floor. Nathalie whimpered as the warmth of his hands fixed themselves to her skin below her shirt. The slight chill of the room flooded her back as he pulled the shirt over her head. She pressed herself against him more, both for his warmth and in desperation. She gave up on his lower buttons and just ripped the offending cloth. Arthur hissed as the soft heat of her freckled body slid against his chest. 

Nathalie left his lips then and traced hot, wet kisses down the column of his neck. She lingered there and bit him when she felt the roughness of his hands leave her skin and fumble with the waistband of her jeans. She tried to race him then, and began fingering his own jeans. He gently pushed her hands away and left them to grip his arms when he succeeded in his efforts and hooked his fingers into the waist of her jeans and thong and pulled them down. She wiggled a little to help him, kicked off her shoes, and nibbled on his collarbone. The resulting breathy laugh from him was welcome, but it didn’t deter her from tracing sloppy kisses over the scars on his chest. 

He pulled away to free her from her pants. Her whine faded when his hands returned exactly where she wanted them most. He kept himself arched over her, still standing, and watched her with lust-dark eyes and a pleased open mouthed smirk as he traced the coarseness of his fingertips over her labia. 

She whimpered then, and tried to buck her hips against him. He tightened his other arm against her in response, and she could do nothing but thrust fruitlessly against the light touch of his hand and the steely strength of his arm. When she realized she couldn’t reach the bulk of his manhood anymore she scowled at him. She was reaching for his chest again when he slipped a finger between her folds and gently slicked against the moisture he found there. He watched her intently as she stilled. When she jerked as he slid a second finger around the nub of her clitoris, he grinned. 

With painstakingly slow, exaggerated movements he slid a finger into her. Nathalie’s eyes fluttered shut as he began to pulse it. Satisfied with her response, he removed the hand he had braced against her side and slid the cups of her bra down. The raggedness of her breath heaved her tits enticingly. Arthur considered himself an ass man for the most part, but he had a hard time ignoring an invitation like that. He ducked his head swiftly against her and laved at a nipple. When he left it to nibble the other one it gleamed wetly in the exposed cold chill of the office. 

Nathalie keened and bucked into him. When he pulled back he added another finger to the slick heat between her legs and straightened to admire his work. She watched him with heavy-lidded eyes and ragged gasps. She’d been flushed from the fight, but Arthur much preferred seeing her flushed like this. 

“Such a good girl,” he crooned. “You should see yourself.” 

Another flash of heat shot through Nathalie’s eyes at his work, and Arthur smiled fondly at the request there and in the arch of her nearly naked body, spread lewdly over the desk. Slick glistened on her skin from his ministrations. 

“You should see how ready you are for me,” he continued, chuckling. “Do you like that? Can you feel how dripping wet you are?” He flicked his fingers against her and the wetness there slicked with a coarse, obscenely drenched noise. Nathalie whimpered and Arthur had to bite his lip to keep from kissing her again. 

“Mhm, that’s right. I did that to you. You’re mine,” Arthur growled. “Isn’t that right?” Treacherously he dipped his hand away and trailed away and up over her breasts. The want in Nathalie’s desperate eyes just made his crooked smile a little more knowing. He paused, lazily circled a nipple, and then gently gripped her chin. 

“Darlin,’ I asked you a question. Isn’ that right?” 

Nathalie hissed in response and rolled her hips. 

“You’re a right bastard, Arthur Morgan,” She growled. Her eyes fluttered shut again as he smiled and ran his fingers over her lips. They traced the plump lower lip, leaving it slightly glistening in the dim light. She clutched at the hand bracing his weight like a bulwark in a storm. 

“You always did like to give me a little fight,” Arthur crooned. He slipped his fingertips into her mouth and met no resistance. Nathalie moaned wantonly as she tasted herself. She laved at his fingers eagerly like she knew he loved, and only stopped when he reluctantly pulled his hand back over her chin. She would have been lying if she had said the taste didn’t make her even wetter.

“Such a good girl. I’ll make you say it, darlin’. You can’ hold out forever,” he smiled darkly. “You’re fuckin’ mine.” 

Nathalie whimpered her agreement, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t have the words anyway. They hadn’t played this game for a long time and she was aching to give him what he wanted, but her body knew the payout would be sweeter if she waited. Nathalie knew her part. So she bucked against his hand as it trailed tantalizingly slowly back down her body and bit back her pleas as he parted her legs wider with his broad shoulders. 

He nearly moaned himself at the sight of her like that, all spread out and deliciously wet for him. He didn’t waste any more time.

Before Nathalie had come into his life he hadn’t been a particular fan of giving oral - he hadn’t been particularly good at it, either. But Nathalie made a keen student out of him, and there was nothing more he loved than to fuck her senseless with the bittersweet of her arousal on his tongue. It made him feel ridiculously powerful to see her cum like that, over and over again, and to know that he had brought her there. On some nights he’d bring her to that point again and again until she was delirious with her orgasms. Tonight though, with his brow and his cheek still smarting from the fight, he just needed to feel her and to know she was his and only his. 

He did moan when his lips found the source of her arousal and when Nathalie cried something unintelligible in response. His eyes fluttered shot as he stroked her with his tongue, laving her clit. He sucked at it, uncaring of the wet on his chin. When Nathalie jerked her hips to meet him he pinned her hips down with his hands. He gave another long, pointed flick and chuckled when she thrust fruitlessly against his grip. She cried out for him, begging him, but for what she was doing her very best not to say. He was a simple, purposeful man. His diligence had made him an excellent leader, right-hand man, and interrogator. Tonight’s interrogation was no different. Right now, Arthur Morgan had a mission and a plan to get there. 

So Arthur Morgan did what he did best, and he pursued what he needed most. He put his fingers back to work and laved and nibbled and crooned at the spots Nathalie cried out at. The heat between his legs throbbed uncomfortably and jumped when Nathalie’s nails dug into the locks of his hair and tugged. He groaned, and the resulting vibrations made Nathalie beg for something wanton and explicit. He did it again and thrust into her harder, forcing his knuckles home hard, and she screamed his name and came around his fingers. 

He let her come down and enjoyed the chorus of soft, breathy expletives she uttered. He kept his fingers buried in her as he straightened and returned to leaning over her. Two high spots of heat burned in Nathalie’s cheeks as she stared at him, mouth parted and similarly flushed. Arthur could see the tremors of her orgasm roll down her body as it faded into aftershocks. He let her try to catch her breath for a second, then experimentally beckoned his fingers. Nathalie jolted. Arthur grinned down at her. He was a sight to behold - face flushed, hair askew, and lips wet with her orgasm. As she watched he flicked his tongue over his mouth, savoring the taste of her. 

“Anything you want to say?” he chuckled, lifting an eyebrow. 

Nathalie laughed. Her body tightened and flinched as she rode a wave of over-stimulation. 

“You want me to say it, you’re going to have to fuck it out of me,” Nathalie wheezed. On tremblin elbows she propped herself up to watch the man and flash him a satisfied smirk. 

“Call the deputy, we have ourselves a tough one,” Arthur sighed, shaking his head with mock sorrow. Before Nathalie could return a witty reply his fingers pulsed purposefully inside of her again. She gasped and dropped her head back with a blissful smile. Arthur ducked over her exposed breasts again and began to thrust, making sure to grind his palm over her clit. In a low, rough voice he murmured praise and expletives. With his free hand he worried a nipple, gently rolling it and tugging it between his fingers. 

When he bit it she cried out and dug her hands into the muscle of his shoulders. The feeling pulled a groan from Arthur’s lips and his hips unconsciously began to grind against her ass. Nathalie rocked against him eagerly. Realizing his lapse, the big man pulled back with a short oath. Nathalie laughed. Arthur grinned at her, then pulled entirely away from her.

“You know what, that’s it,” he growled. His fingers fumbled against his belt. “C’mere!” 

“I won’t give in!” Nathalie barked out a laugh. 

“Hmmm, we’ll see about that,” Arthur murmured. He dropped his fly and, with eager hands, withdrew his erection. Nathalie crooned wordlessly and reached out for his cock. 

Without warning Arthur grabbed her by the hips and slammed himself into her core. The two moaned loudly at the union. Less-than-gently Arthur rocked his hips back and crashed into her again. The two slid into a violent pace. In the midst of it Nathalie reached out to his face and cupped it, losing herself in the cornflower blue and the white-hot lust within them. 

“I’ll ask you again,” Arthur growled, slamming into her. She was deliciously, uncomfortably full. She could feel his length pulse against her. 

“You’re mine.”

Nathalie couldn’t reply. She was choked on her own pleasure and the delicious image of Arthur Morgan taking his pleasure between her legs. His skin glistened with the effort to restrain himself. When she clenched with a whimper, Arthur groaned and dropped his head back. His brow was pinched with ecstasy. Nathalie picked up the pace when his hips stuttered once, and he opened his eyes to meet hers through a fog of near-orgasmic intoxication. 

He found his pace then, and with a low rumble, he gripped one of her thighs and pulled her onto her side. He bit down on the soft skin behind her knee and pulled it over his shoulder. Arthur slammed against her and the new position slid his cock in a way that turned the world white. Before Nathalie could adjust to the new position he began to piston his cock faster. The sounds of flesh slapping and swears filled the air. Nathalie couldn’t thrust back into him from this position, but she didn’t need to. Arthur’s hands on her hips were an unstoppable, deliciously bruising force. His fingers dipped white dents against the tan of her legs. Nathalie felt like jelly. 

“All mine,” he grunted. 

He rolled his hips, watching his cock piston in and out of her. 

“Aren’t you, Nathalie?”

A series of breathless whimpered yesses answered his question.

“I need you to say it, girl. Fuckin’ tell me.”

“Yes! I’m yours!” she cried. “I’m yours, I swear to god, Arthur!” 

Arthur snarled and heightened his pace impossibly faster. The sound of flesh on flesh filled the space of the office and drove Arthur wilder. His body and cock slid against Nathalie’s clit with every thrust. A low, steady keen fell from her slack lips. 

He bent lower over here and arched a hand around her neck, pinning her in place. The roughness of his hands was all it took to highten the the constant torrent of wordless moans into a flood of filthy demands. 

“Yours! Fuck, Arthur, I’m fucking yours!” she cried. “I love y-you! I love you so much. Use me, use me, please. Fuck, Arthur. I need this, I need you so bad. I need you to fill me up. I need you fucking me like this, filling me to the core, just like this, fuck yes, thank you thank you fuck I love you -”

Arthur shuddered against her as Nathalie tightened around his thrusts. Her eyes rolled shot and her mouth dropped open. He panted against her, using her pleasure for his own. Her second orgasm shot through her in violent spasms and her words stuttered into soundless whimpers. The hand from her neck spread and dipped his thumb into the pink of her open mouth.

A steady deluge of filthy nothings and promises fell onto her flushed skin as Arthur pumped into her. He swore how good she felt, how delicious she looked, how good she tasted, and how perfect she was spread out all over this table for him. Her fingernails dug half-moon divots into his back and arms. Nathalie whimpered and thrashed around his thumb and his cock - when a hand clenched around the curls at the nape of his neck, his orgasm crashed over him with a strangled shout. His hips hammered erratically and impossibly hard. 

He withdrew just in time to shoot a rope of gossamer cum across her chest and stomach. The second spattered against her belly when he flattened his cock against her clit and rutted against her skin. 

The last of Nathalie’s orgasm shuddered through her at the new sensation as Arthur groaned and spent himself against her skin. They rode out their orgasms like that, with Arthur breathing hard and collapsed around her while Nathalie whimpered and traced lazy patterns through his sandy, sweat-dark curls. 

When he stilled he dropped his brow to her collar bone and exhaled shudderingly. He smiled exhaustedly when he saw Nathalie’s other hand dip into the spend on her abdomen and absently paint a line up between her breasts. She placed feather-light kisses to the crown of his head while he watched. 

“Jesus, darlin.’”

“Hm?” Nathalie asked, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. He raised it heavily and met her gaze with a wide, crooked smile. 

“You tryin’ to kill me?”

“Nah,” she replied with a smile. “‘Sides, you’re still hard. You can handle it, old man.”

Arthur pulled himself upright with an exaggerated groan. Nathalie lightly tapped his cock and it bobbed. She giggled. 

“You are tryin’ to kill me!” he laughed. 

“C’mon, Arthur, ‘you always like to give me a little fight!’” she teased, pantomiming his rough voice to the best of her abilities. She lurched up to her elbows and reached for his cock again and he swatted her arm with a laugh. She chortled and sat upright, bringing her painted skin threateningly close to his chest. He twisted away a few inches with a little yelp and made a wild grab for a box of tissues which lay toppled on the floor under a pile of scattered file papers. He pushed her back then and began attempting to forcefully blot her chest with a fistful of tissues, peppering her shoulders and face with kisses as he did so. Nathalie laughed wildly, and he couldn’t help but join her. 

The laughter rolled on and on as they clutched each other. While it started mirthfully, the hysterical edge to it grew as their conniptions continued. They clutched each other tightly, uncaring of the mess they’d made or the sweat on their skin. Arthur’s shoulders shook and stuttered his chest against Nathalie’s cheek. When she looked up, there were tracks of tears glistening through the stubble on his jaw. 

Nathalie stilled and traced the bags under his eyes with her thumbs. She kissed the saltiness away, but more came. Sporadic laughter still escaped his chest, but it wasn’t from gaiety anymore. 

“Arthur, Arthur,” she asked worriedly. She didn’t notice the weakness in her own voice. Arthur leaned into her touch and kissed her hand, studying her face with red-rimmed cornflower blue eyes. Tears wet and clumped his lashes. The feeling wet of his fingers on her own cheeks startled her - she hadn’t realized she’d been crying as well.

“We’re almost there, babe,” she murmured shakily. “Almost there.”

He smiled slightly at that, and gently traced the bit of dried blood on her cheekbone from where she’d been cut. He swallowed, staring at it. She looked flustered and flushed and frazzled. He was reminded again of his original goal for the night, to whisk her home and into the warmth of their bed. He wanted nothing more than to soothe the worried light in her tired gray eyes. 

“What if we just went?” he whispered. “Your schoolin’. It’s online. John’s okay, Jack and Abigail are okay. I can support us.”

Nathalie cocked her head and studied the intensity on his face. 

“You’re serious?” she whispered back.

“Yeah.” Arthur’s voice cracked, and he smiled again and dipped his head to kiss her nose. “Let’s just go.”

Nathalie swallowed and offered him a shaky, nervous smile. 

“We can do that?” she joked half-heartedly. 

Arthur didn’t respond immediately. He closed his eyes and traced the length of her nose with his, breathing in the warmth of her. He pressed another kiss to the little upturn of her nose and smiled. 

“Hhm. Want to?”

Nathalie smiled against his cheek, and responded with a small, wavering voice. 

“Yeah. Let’s go.” 

Arthur grinned and pulled his partner tight against him. His shoulders sagged in relief, suddenly light of some weight he hadn’t realized he’d been bearing. When he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, he felt lighter and freer than he had in a long time.


	3. Bonus Plot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks! I never intended to add to this modern AU, particularly because I didn't see a whole lot of interest in it. Yet, I can't get the damn plot ideas out of my head. I don't want to invest the energy into making this a full thing, but I had fun with the plot and had to write it down. Might as well post it, right? 
> 
> Please note that this is JUST PLOT. There's barely any grammar, and my punctuation is next to nill. It's a collection of ideas more than anything else. We'll just write this off as a peek into the creative process. Please enjoy!

Arthur up late one night, sketching

Hears jangling keys, door open, giggling, laughing, footsteps into John's bedroom, then sound of two people falling back on bed, more laughter, then silence, a quiet groan

Arthur annoyed huff, puts on headphones

"Bluetooth taring." (Bluetooth headphones can't find his phone)

Hears a whimper, then two moans

Arthur swears under breath

(Bluetooth finally connects) "Connected!"

Arthur turns up volume super loud, keeps drawing

Hears bed banging against wall

Turns up music louder

* * *

Early next morning Arthur rolls out of bed, sleepy, heads for kitchen - only to find Nathalie in kitchen, frantically trying to stuff food in her mouth

He startles her

(She didn't know he had a roommate) Nathalie squeaks. “Sorry, sorry!” Stuffs apple in mouth, toast in one hand, car keys in other, hops/slips on shoes with one hand, is out the door and gone.

Arthur amused despite himself

Starts a cup of drip coffee

Goes to take a shower

He’s got the day off and intends to enjoy it. 

Arthur grabs sketchbook, pulls into promising looking coffee shop he'd been meaning to try. 

Goes in, looks to corner window nook. It overlooks out over greenery and woods and a river below. Looks perfect - at this point, doesn't matter if coffee's shit (especially since already had a cup). He's just happy to have such a great spot to work. Looks at over-complicated looking menu board, rubs jaw distractedly. 

Steps up, still looking at menu board. 

“I’ll have a blueberry muffin and a dry cappuccino.”

“Will that be all for you today?” 

“Sure”

Arthur Looks up from wallet

He stills, eyes widen. Blinks in surprise. Recognizes bangs, vague bedhead hair, the shirt, albeit now with an apron wrapped around the short form

Nathalie looks up, recognizes him, face heats bright red

Stammers

"Th-that's 6.50." 

Arthur nods

Pays

Says something witty as tips

Nathalie bites back a grin

* * *

Arthur works as a mechanic.

He’s right hand man for Dutch in the Van der Linde gang. Dutch runs any number of shifty schemes - some legal, most not. He owns a bar (Dutch’s Place) which functions both as a profitable legal business and as a front. 

Arthur comes to bar with Charles, waiting to meet John

Arthur realizes Nathalie is working at bar. She’s the newest bartender. 

Nathalie's ready with a quip when she recognizes him this time

John joins them 

So this is why you wanted to meet at the bar.

Slings thumb backwards to indicate N, smirks. 

Wouldn't you? John smirks.

Charles rolls eyes.

Arthur asks if they’re a thing now.

John shrugs, shakes head. 

Arthur tells him it’s not a good idea to get involved with anyone so close to the gang’s business.

“Relax Morgan, I’m banging the bartender, I’m not fucking Sean.”

Charles laughs. 

* * *

Nathalie goes home with John again

Arthur stays late at bar with Charles, Lenny, and Sean

Jokes he stays late "so he doesn't have to hear the sound of John blowing his load early again."

Gets pretty drunk

Sobers up at closing time. By then it's just him and Charles left

Talks about Mary 

When Arthur gets home, he grabs one more beer (knows he'll regret it in the morning), but he's still thinking of Mary. 

Sits down in his bed

Tilts bottle up to his lips

Huffs a breath, closes eyes

He can hear them

-raspy and indignant John, laughing- “ _Again_?” 

A soft murmur

Arthur sits up, frustrated, ready to grab headphones again

“Please?” Nathalie begs. “You won’t have to do a thing. Just touch me? Watch me?”

Low, gravelly laugh. “Why don't I believe you?”

Nathalie dirty talk

Arthur's cock twitches in interest. Wets lip, warring with himself. 

Nathalie dirty talk

Feels twinge of guilt, but too aroused and buzzed to fight the desire. 

Touches himself

Let's himself imagine it's Mary

Loses Mary's image, just wrapped up in Nat's voice

* * *

As bartender, Nathalie gets invited along by Tilly (a coworker at the bar) to go to some events

Street race!

Nathalie watches John race, gets introduced to others in group

Nathalie along for some events (bonfires, races, just hanging out)

Nathalie makes friends with Tilly, John, Sean, Lenny, and Abigail

Gets casually closer to Arthur

Arthur doesn’t race much anymore. When he does, he kicks everyone else’s ass. Borrows John’s car, does better than John.

Arthur learns it’s just been one night stands between her and John, no interest in exclusivity/relationship

Nathalie learns he’s an amazing artist from spending time with him as a barista

She sees a different side of him in the mornings than when at the bar or hanging out with friends

* * *

Gives him free coffee when on shift

He tips in $5 bills. Once he realizes she shares tips with a slacking asshole bro-douche, he "jokingly" asks her if she wants coworker to not bother her anymore.

Nat jokingly turns him down

Arthur stops tipping in tip jar.

Nat confused, until she notices that he switches to leaving his table dirty (which he didn’t do previously). Nathalie, annoyed, picks up napkin and realizes it’s covering a sketch of her working and a folded-in-half $5 bill.

Nat is touched, smiles. 

* * *

Introduce A’s POV. Unbeknownst to Nat, his works as a mechanic is 90% stripping and souping up cars and bikes for resale/redistribution as well as being enforcer/muscle/debt collection for Dutch.

When Arthur is breaking and entering in an O’Driscoll warehouse to steal back titles taken by Colm O’Driscoll, he sees a receipt for Colm paying one of their fences for something (it's buying off the fence for information on Dutch's gang, but A doesn't know at time).

He and John shoot their way out, adrenaline high.

* * *

Sean asks Nat to drop off Arthur’s “lunch” (it’s a lunch bag with a sandwich and $3,000 dollars of pay-off money)

Nat visits Arthur at the garage

She pauses, admiring bike he's working on

"Huh. It's not legal though, right?"

Arthur freezes. Ready to rebuke her, wary if she's calling him out, how much she knows, etc.

Nat continues on, totally unaware of how unwittingly correct she was

"Those headlights are gorgeous, but doesn't it need ___ to be street legal?"

Arthur lets out faltering, earnest laugh which gets deeper and steadier. Nat furrows brow, confused as to why he's laughing. 

"What?"

"Nothin', nothin'. You just caught me off guard." Arthur grins. 

Nat gives him “his lunch”

Arthur’s eyes narrow; confused, guard back up - opens bag, immediately tense and angry

He tries to hide sudden mood shift, Nat still catches it, Nat confused

Curt goodbye dismissal from Arthur

Later Arthur tells Sean off for making Nat an unwitting mule, makes Sean swear he won’t involve her again

...

Nat interrogates Sean about what was in bag

...

Sean is caught between both of their rage

Sean weasels out, “hands off” on whole situation, makes a joke out of it to escape

* * *

Nat is hanging out with John/Lenny/Sean

They’re joking about work, but their “cover story” doesn’t add up to details both J and S had mentioned in the past. Some aspect of something that doesn't make sense to her. She asks for clarification (keeping conversation light), and there’s nervous laughter and a correction. Someone mentions "Van der Linde". Nat recognizes it as Dutch’s last name - as the owner of the bar she’s seen him around a few times before, but doesn’t really know him. She hadn’t suspected that whatever is going on is related to her boss. N’s interest is piqued. 

Nat later asks John who Dutch is later and is (unexpectedly) shut down hard

That just makes her more curious/passionate about finding out

She thinks some aspect of something is fishy. She goes to investigate. She's heard O'Driscolls mentioned a few times - thinks that's a good a starting place as any. She finds a bar of that name in a seedy part of town. She asks Sean if he's ever been to a bar on the outskirts of town (goes to great lengths to carefully describe the bar without giving away the name in a wink wink nudge nudge way). it goes completely over Sean's head. He's no help, so she decides her best course of action is to just go there and check it out. Goes and naively/stupidly/unwittingly outright asks bartender there if they'd heard of Dutch Van der Linde. 

Bartender pauses a second too long. N knows he knows something. He denies knowing anything about that. N presses. Two men "gently" guide her away, one practically dragging her by each elbow. 

She leaves, but has next clue.

She pursues (maybe hears O'Driscolls mention guy as new dealer or something) clue, winds up in a dangerous spot. Guy is playing solitaire on a back table. Guy suspects her fake story, tells his goons to get rid of her and make sure she shuts the fuck up. 

Meanwhile while Arthur is with Micah pressing a guy to pay for _____. The guy, meanwhile, has backed out on the deal and has switched to working with O'Driscolls. Guy offers Micah and Arthur join him for a round while they talk. Guy automatically deals them in and fills their glasses. Arthur and Micah trying to renegotiate getting his business back - Arthur sees Nat being escorted/dragged away, clearly against her will, in background. Arthur fibs, asks guy why he's messing with "fake name." Guy startled - “you know this girl? She's with you?” 

"'Course. She's with all of us - me 'specially. Bring her here." Guy acquises, Arthur pulls Nathalie down to sit on his knee. She plays along, simpers against him. She’s distracted and attracted. He bounces her on his knee while they play cards and smoke. He’s distracted and aroused, but hides it better than Nathalie does. 

Nat, meanwhile, is soaking up all of the info of this business conversation that Arthur had intended she know nothing about. Arthur just has to go with it, well aware she’s listening. Arthur promises Guy a higher cut from sales in order to keep their partnership. They barter a bit. Guy goes with it. Micah is suspiciously quiet, just watching Nat and playing. A doesn’t like how closely he’s watching Nathalie. 

Guy mentions upcoming job that Van der Linde’ gang has been planning.

Poker game ends. Arthur folded, Guy won hand. 

Micah asks how he knows about it while Arthur deals everyone in again. 

Guy is shifty, shrugs, says he won’t share his sources.

(Arthur is incredibly suspicious, thinking to himself that they need to back out of that job now. 

Micah is thinking they should still go through with it).

….

Small talk throughout rest of game. It’s revealed that Dutch is in charge, that everything is run out of a ranch, that guy fences for gang, and that they’re involved with illegal street racing/betting/car theft and redistribution. 

Second game ends. Micah wins. Arthur doesn’t seem too invested in the $150 he just lost.

Arthur shakes hands with Guy, A/M/N make to leave. Arthur’s got his arm around Nathalie’s waist, steering her with him.

Outside, Arthur makes it clear he’ll meet with Micah back at the ranch. Micah leaves.

“Where’s your car?” Arthur’s voice is steely and calm.

She ubered here, seeing as it was a seedier part of town she wasn’t really familiar with.

Arthur drives her back to her place, tense silence the whole time. 

They arrive at her place. Arthur indicates she should get out. Nathalie crosses arms. “You eaten dinner yet?”

Arthur blinks, surprised, but doesn’t drop tense angry act. “No.”

“Then you’re coming in with me.”

“I’m not - dammit, woman, look -”

“You’re coming in and talking to me or I’m not leaving this car.”

Arthur practically growls, pushes hair back frustratedly. “Christ alive, alright.”

He’s a looming shadow, looking around warily, over her shoulder as she unlocks door

He follows her into apartment. It’s first floor/basement, very dark, pretty gloomy. Obviously super cheap. He can hear neighbors’ TV upstairs. Apartment is sparse - what there is is cheap and mismatched.

She starts to reach for fridge - A blocks her with an arm over door, pushing it shut and slightly penning her in. 

“Yes?” Nat raises eyebrow sarcastically.

“What the hell was that.”

“What was what?” Nat asks, playing stupid. She’s scanning her apartment, gauging if she’s safe here with him. She doesn’t think he’d hurt her, but eyes the baseball bat she keeps tucked behind shoes on floor as a plan B. 

“Nathalie,” Arthur growls. Firm hand pulls her chin up, forcing her to look him right in the eye. He’s FURIOUS.

Thrill down Nat’s back, sparking goosebumps. She ignores the feeling, ignores the hitching in her breath she knows he can hear. She’d analyze the feeling later - had to keep her cool. Summons her own anger. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Nathalie hisses back. “Fences? Stripping cars? _Robbery_?”

“First John, then Sean. I keep finding you, poking your nose into places you _really_ shouldn’t be.” Arthur’s voice is low and dangerous. “What’s it going to take to keep you out of this?” 

“Just tell me and I’ll leave it alone,” Nat growls defiantly.

“Fat goddamn chance.” 

Nathalie shoots her hands forward, preparing to push him back. Arthur catches her arms easily, strength like an iron bar, totally unyielding. He pushes her arms back, pushing her whole body flat against the fridge. He’s right up against her. It’s supposed to be threatening, but Nat’s just turned on AF by the proximity. 

“I’m telling you, you need to -” Arthur starts.

Nat kisses him.

Arthur’s lips slack from surprise, quickly matches her. Kiss deepens. Nat had intended kiss to distract him so she could shove him away, but when his grip loosens she just pushes herself tighter against him, one hand ensnaring in hair at nape of his neck, the other gripping his shirt.

Arthur moans against her mouth, picks her up like it’s nothing. Her legs wrapped tight around his waist, he turns and pushes her up against counter. She sits there while they basically devour each other. His hands everywhere.

She breaks for air, gasping, he just kisses his way down her throat. When he nips she moans and he does it again, a little harder.

Nat leans back, scattering papers on counter thoughtlessly. Grinds against him, Arthur growls. Kissing again, biting and licking into each other.

N starts hiking up his shirt from scrabbling at his back, Arthur swears, he’s working on kissing every bit of skin he finds as he starts pulling her shirt up. 

Arthur’s phone rings.

Arthur ignores it, hands sliding up her sides to cup sides of her breasts. Nathalie mews, grinds into him, arching back.

Ring repeats.

Arthur’s eyes are feverish, he’s panting as she pulls him back into kiss.

She bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, he moans. 

Ring repeats.

“Shit, I have to-”

Nat ignores him, cupping his face, kissing him again.

Ring repeats.

Arthur moans, pulls away.

“Nat, that’s Dutch. I have to-”

Nathalie whimpers, reaching for him as he pulls his hips away from hers and shakingly steps back from the counter.

“Arthur, I -” Nathalie gasps. She’s a mess. Hair in a disarray, cheeks and lips flushed, eyes dilated, shirt halfway pulled up, neck marked. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Arthur pants. “I have to go. Don’t - don’t do anything.”

Arthur opens flip phone (of course he still has a flip phone), answers even as he’s walking away. 

He doesn’t look back, closes door behind him as he walks out door.

Nathalie left breathing hard, can’t even begin to comprehend all her emotions or scattered thoughts. 


End file.
